Blog 11: The Men After my Dad

This blog is a bit different from what I usually write. Rather than focusing on one person who has shaped my life, I want to talk about a group of people—the men who entered my life after my dad passed away. Unfortunately, these weren’t positive experiences, and I feel it’s important to share how they’ve shaped who I am today.

One common thread in my life has been people leaving, especially men. There are only a few who have stuck around, and I don’t know why that is. Maybe it’s bad luck, maybe just coincidence—but either way, it’s been a recurring theme.

I’m going to focus on a few of these men—my mom’s boyfriends after my dad passed. When my mom dated the first two, she thought they’d get married, and I truly believe she believed that. But, one by one, they left. Then, she married her ex-husband, a man who, as I’ve shared before, didn’t show his true self in the beginning. Once they were married, he became anything but kind. He struggled with alcohol, and worse, when he drank, he had anger issues.

He knew I didn’t like him—how could I, when I could see through the façade he put on for everyone else? It created tension, and I became someone he could yell at because he knew I didn’t care to be around him. I’ll never forget the night he stormed into my room, furious because our dog had been scratching at the door. I couldn’t hear it because I had noise-canceling headphones on. But he burst through the door, started yelling at me, and I remember crying. That was the first time I feared he could be violent. He repeatedly slammed his hand against the door, and in that moment, I wasn’t scared for myself—I was scared for my mom.

This was just one of many times he screamed at me for no reason. It took so much courage for my mom to leave him, and I wrote about this in my third blog, explaining why she made that decision. These experiences, though painful, have made me who I am. They’ve made me incredibly guarded when it comes to relationships.

The combination of losing my father and seeing people leave has made me hesitant to get into romantic relationships. That is, until I met my ex. From the start, I told him about my commitment issues—great way to begin a relationship, right? But we dated for nine months. He met my family, and I met his. After four months, I finally told him I loved him. Though I had felt that way much earlier, saying it out loud felt like it would make it real—and if he left, it would make it hurt that much more. For the most part, he was a great first boyfriend (of course, everyone has their flaws).

During the spring semester, he called me upset about the distance for the summer. So, I drove to his school, only for him to break up with me ten minutes after I arrived. No real explanation—just a vague excuse about the distance. I don’t think it was ever really about that, but who knows? We haven’t spoken since.

After my dad’s passing, I became extremely sentimental. I started journaling daily my senior year, a habit I haven’t broken in three years. I also became obsessed with taking pictures and keeping mementos. I have five memory boxes now. And despite the fact it’s been nearly a year since my ex and I broke up, I haven’t gotten rid of anything. All the photos are still on my phone, the texts remain, and every little keepsake I have from our time together is still tucked away. I don’t know why I haven’t deleted it all. It’s clear that we’re not getting back together, and I’ve moved on. But part of me holds onto it, afraid that someday I’ll regret not having it to look back on.

I hate to think that this breakup has shaped me, and I like to believe I don’t let men affect me. But when I look at why I still struggle with commitment, I can’t ignore how much it hurts to let my guard down, with the possibility of someone leaving again.

I remember one day, my ex and I were hanging out when I started laughing over something silly. I was really laughing, and he said, “I’ve never heard you laugh like that before.” And yet, it was my normal laugh. This threw me off because we’d been together for eight months, and he’d never heard me genuinely laugh. I started wondering how much I hadn’t been myself in that relationship. I remembered how he would point out that I never sang in the car with him. This may seem like a small thing, but, for those who know me, you know that I never stop singing in the car. So, I couldn’t help but wonder how much I was holding back or not letting myself be fully me.

These moments and people have all contributed to who I am today. I don’t want to leave you with the impression that I’ve only had bad experiences because I’ve also had many incredible ones. Even in the "bad" experiences, there was good to be found.

These moments and people have all contributed to who I am today. I don’t want to leave you with the impression that I’ve only had bad experiences because I’ve also had many incredible ones. Even in the "bad" experiences, there was good to be found. I constantly push myself to be fearlessly myself, reminding myself that the people who truly value me will stay. And with that mindset, I’ve learned to embrace my authenticity, knowing it will attract the right people into my life.

I try to take these experiences and turn them into something positive. It’s not always easy, but instead of assuming someone will leave, I challenge myself to think, "What if they stay?" This shift in perspective has helped me form new friendships and relationships when life presents those opportunities. Ultimately, it’s the journey of learning to trust myself and others that shapes the way I approach every connection moving forward.